You Don't Know Me: Reflections of Randy and Stacy
by Beyond The Mat
Summary: What happens when Stacy Keibler opts to clue Randy Orton in on a little detail that she'd neglected to mention...that they have an 8 year old son and she wants Randy to step up as a father so she can resume her career?
1. Chapter 1

**This story has crafted by one and being assisted by another. We've done some great things together. Why stop now? Far from a one-shot, this will chronicle a story that began nine years ago and continues. The usual disclaimers apply: This is fiction, we own none of the celebrity characters, trademarks, etc.**

**This chapter serves as both an outline **of what is to come **and table of contents. **Reviews are welcome, as always.****

* * *

><p><span>Late 2002<span>

Where could you find Randy Orton when not in the ring? Between Stacy Keibler's thighs. If not there for a moment, then attached to her by the hip. This was a 'real' relationship, as in Randy Orton actually cared about Stacy Keibler. That, for a time, he wasn't dependent on ring rats to get off, nor was he running too hard with the guys in pursuit of getting laid, because he was in love. Rehabbing from the injury that had him cutting RNN, Randy News Network, promos, had Stacy by his side, keeping him company at those physical therapy appointments, as well as standing next to the cameraman trying not to giggle when Randy would ham it up and ask for people to send him get well wishes through the WWE's website. As soon as the cameraman would say "cut," Randy would grin and Stacy would emerge from the sidelines and tell him how awful he was. They were happy.

* * *

><p><span>Mid-2003<span>

Stacy would be the first one to tell you that she loved him, once. It was easier to love him before he'd joined Evolution, but she'd still tried. Slightly older than him, she could have told you that Randy was going to have a bright future in the business, eventually pulling down top money. She might not have predicted the movie roles and other things that were going to happen for him outside of the squared circle, that would elevate his celebrity status to B-list, if not A-list, but she was content with him. Of course, contentedness can fade.

Contentedness can also be shattered, when it comes to a relationship. That's what happened here. But sometimes, there are remnants of a relationship that can hold the memories of the good. Because once, things were good. Those thoughts kept her content. Not enough, of course, to return to the company afterward, but content enough to keep the baby she'd learned she was pregnant with instead of terminating the pregnancy. She learned of the pregnancy right after seeking her release from the company and having it granted.

Stacy believed that she could separate the feelings of negativity that she now (and likely always) would harbor for Randy separately and apart from this baby. She believed she was ready to be not just a mother, but a Mom, and devote herself to this child for the first few years of its life.

* * *

><p><span>Mid-2008<span>

What Stacy didn't expect was to become so mind-numbed. Days would sometimes pass without an adult conversation. Diapers, feedings, rounds to pediatricians, and the fight to get her body back, a fight having to be battled around the baby's sleep schedule..this wasn't what Stacy believed she'd signed on for. She hungered for the spotlight again. She missed her celebrity status. She missed the red carpet, she missed being blinded by flashbulbs. She had been home for five years now. She wanted to be relevant in the entertainment world again, without having to resort to becoming a Vivid Girl or something along those lines to "be somebody" again. She didn't want to return to wrestling, but she most certainly wanted an acting career. She wouldn't mind modeling, either.

This is not to say that she doesn't love her son. Of course she does. But as this child grew older, she found that it was hard for her to *like* him very much. Of course a mother can love their child without liking them; physically in terms of build, as well as mannerisms, and to a degree, in temperament, he's becoming just like his father. Expressions in his face, particularly when angry, channeled Randy. Baby Travis had become little boy Travis, who was honestly a healthy mix of both parents-he has Stacy's playfulness, early signs of Randy's athleticism, both parents' charm, Stacy's need for excitement and Randy's brashness. But he also has many traits unique to himself. He's an intelligent child, quick to learn, who does well in school, although he does need to be pushed. He's budding into a classic "does not work to his potential unless being hovered over."

Stacy has tried to do the school PTA thing, chaperoning field trips, and spending afternoons with just Travis, ad nauseum, at Monkey Joe's and Gymboree. She's starting to feel like a wilted flower who needs sunlight, or will die. Finding herself screaming at him one day over something extremely trivial, and seeing the fear in Travis' face when she did so, startled her into thinking that this simply wasn't healthy. Of course, a child can have a healthy fear of a parent: Travis is the type of child that doesn't fear punishment until it actually happens, and Travis knows how to push Stacy's buttons. However, she was wise enough to realize that things weren't going to get better unless she started doing something for herself.

* * *

><p><span>The Present, late 2011<span>

Stacy couldn't comprehend how she's lasted this long. It's not like she hated her child, but the duties, drudgery and mundane routine of being a mother were simply too much for her to deal with now. She had found small ways to keep her name out in public and relevant, as well as very few modeling opportunities, but with little help, this was complicated.

To clarify, it wasn't the money. No, no no. It was the lack of everything else that she missed. It was her and Travis. All the time. Together. The last boyfriend she had left about a year ago now. Well, that was until Clooney came into play, but that's later on. It went from missing attention, to missing her life as a whole. Even when she called her old friends up, "What about Travis?" was the first thing they'd say. "How's the little one? He must be getting big!" She'd have to come home earlier, to a normally cranky child, and honestly, she was at a point where it felt that it just wasn't worth it. It also crossed her mind that one day, sooner than people tend to think, since children grow so fast, that Travis would be grown and wouldn't need her anymore. If she didn't try to resuscitate her career..and her soul..where would that leave her in the not-so-distant future?

She caught herself more often than not using a shrill tone with saying countlessly, "Travis, no." or screaming "Listen to mommy!" to try and keep him in line. Even threats or the dreaded hand pop were losing its intimidation factor. She had figured it was because of the move into George Clooney's luxurious home, as well as the child now having to listen to another adult who was probably more clueless then she was with children.

As for how she met George, it was luck on her part. With Travis being watched by her parents while he was being affected harshly by the weather changes, she found the rare chance to go to those red carpet events she had longed for. Of course, it felt almost automatic to pose and smile, and she didn't know when she'd be able to get out again, so she shook as many hands as she could and made the most of the moment. She found herself along A-Listers again, Clooney getting the most attention. It'd be for his lack of desire to do too much of anything, as well as his easygoing personality.

However, tension in the Keibler-Clooney household hit a very uncomfortable high when George was forced to give Travis attention. It was clear that he wanted Stacy and Stacy alone. Not Stacy and her third-grade child. He didn't hate the boy, but the mere fact the she had a child was really putting an obstacle in their relationship. A young obstacle that was now old enough to comprehend, and observe. The private schooling, not having the usual fast-paced sex life most movie stars have, all of it. Worse, he was having to become a family man, and forced to share Stacy. Now with her missing his events because of not having anymore reliable resources (You really think they'd take a kid with them anywhere?) a huffed "Send him with his damn father then!" was blurted.

Yes, Travis heard it, and yes, Stacy had considered working some sort of agreement, but was now the right time, while Randy was at a peak in his career? Travis and Randy were resembling each other, and his behavior...yes. This was the right thing to do, if only for a while. Travis needed to at least know who his father was, and more important, Randy needed to learn that they had a son. One who had been created out of love and was a symbol of good memories.

She shook her head. Who was she kidding? She wasn't one prone to the use of profanity, but there was no avoiding this. This was...fucked. It could make all involved heavily followed by paparazzi, and a part of her did want Travis still protected. She wasn't a monster, after all. She just had the ability to admit to herself what many women could not: That unless they did something for themselves, they could not be good for others. In this case, 'others' are her own child. But would it have been better to keep things going as they were in a downspiral, unhealthy for herself and George, and even possibly unhealthier for Travis?

George had paid for the lawyers, and they had ways to get Randy to take this child, as harsh as that may sound. She didn't know how this would end, but she did know it had to start. She had gotten in contact with Bob Orton, Randy's father, who was already dealing with child problems of his own, and only ended up with his number. She'd be making the call, and setting this up. If she had to bully, convince, possibly buy him off...something, anything. But this wasn't going to work anymore. That much was obvious to her. Parenthood was not something she was ready for, and maybe Randy was more cut out for this. She'd done the hardest parts of this so far. It was her body that this child used to develop. It was Stacy who'd labored, and fought for her body back. It was Stacy who was there in Travis' formative years.

"I need this. I _deserve_ this." Stacy was telling herself at this point. She loved Travis, but right now? She couldn't do it. It wouldn't be healthy for them as family, and in her mind, for her career any longer, or for her relationship.


	2. Chapter 2

**This story has crafted by one and being assisted by another. We've done some great things together. Why stop now? Far from a one-shot, this will chronicle a story that began nine years ago and continues. The usual disclaimers apply: This is fiction, we own none of the celebrity characters, trademarks, etc.**

**Chapters will not necessarily be in any "order", but will be told from different points of view along the way. **Reviews are welcome, as always.****

* * *

><p><span>Early November 2011<span>

"Stacy, I done told you how many times I gave him the message. You said call him and tell him to call you, it's urgent. And I done that. And I can't help it if he ain't takin' your calls, I wouldn't say it's personal, like against you, you know my son works crazy hours. Sometimes a couple weeks go by before he can even call me back and I'm his father. Now, you're fillin' up my voicemail box, I ain't the one you need to talk to on this. I got problems of my own. If you want the family lawyer's name and number, I'll give you that next." So went the contents on Bob Orton's voicemail on Stacy's phone, in an exasperated tone. The parting shot Bob hung up with was a veiled legal threat of his own. _Keep on callin' me and I'll sic the fancy, high-priced lawyer my son pays for on you. You're harassing me. You might have business with Randy, sure, but you don't need to be calling me morning, noon and night._

Old, gruff "Cowboy" Bob could have been harsher, Stacy realized, as she played back the message again, but he just sounded tired. Stacy knew that form of tired, a tired only a parent of a child who's tried your patience until you've got none left would know. She was tired of trying to chase Randy down, tired of her boyfriend George Clooney telling her about her son's shortcomings and hinting that their relationship could very well be on borrowed time if Stacy didn't get Randy to step up and lend a hand.

The minute she got home, it was to a crying Travis, who had been apparently handled by an annoyed George.

"What did you do!" She asked, picking Travis up like she used to when he was younger. She was more than tired of being a mother, but this was the time she caved. She knew better than to let her child be in complete distress.

"I hardly even popped him," George said, ticked off. "He was fooling around in the office again. How many times have I told you to tell him to stay out of there?" George asked, crossing his arms and looking at her, as if she was the child. And as much as she wanted to say "If you gave him an **ounce** of attention...!", she almost automatically remembered that this wasn't his child. She only walked past him, and took Travis up to his room. She had fed him before stepping out to talk to the lawyer, and was going to put him to bed when she got home anyway. These circumstances, however, were unnecesary. And temporary, she then remembered. She had her mind going towards the future. The near future, and how different it would be.

"Did you get it taken care of?" George asked, walking by and pausing for a moment.

"Yes. Cus-..." She couldn't bring herself to talk about it in Travis's room, and walked out and shut his door, "Once I sign this, the custody will be handed over to Randy. I'll just have to tell him, and...it's done."

"Sweetie, this is good. Really. Relax. I'll be in bed." George said, not even bothering to try and read her, and was already on his heels when Stacy pulled out her phone again, and listened to that message from Bob one more time. If not for anything else, then for clarity. He was right, she needed to just call Randy, directly.

She looked in the mirror after ending the voicemail and saw bags beneath her eyes, bags the size of the luggage she used to tote around from airport to airport when her WWE schedule was completely nuts. Randy's schedule is more grueling, and just for a moment, her thoughts went to Travis, concerned thoughts.

One problem Travis has always had was with the weather changes. He wasn't a frail child, but he was extremely sensitive to cold snaps. The first few days of temperatures under 65* might have her calling the pediatrician and getting him seen as soon as possible. Winters rarely went by without Travis fighting a nasty case of bronchitis. Stacy was a pro with nebulizer machines and had his inhaler in her handbag at all times. Now, if Randy takes him, will he be cautious with Travis' health? Will he realize that even if he pumps Travis full of orange juice and vitamins and dresses him warmly, there's a 99% chance he's *still* going to get sick because of the winter?

She thought of Travis trudging behind Randy, on and off planes and into waiting cars and buses and for a moment, thought to herself, _What the fuck am I doing?_

She popped a Xanax and within a half hour, it didn't matter what the fuck she thought she was doing, because she'd anesthetized herself into a blissful state of numbness, one that would allow her stress to melt away a bit, for a little while, one that would delay her next appointment with the dermatologist for Botox. _It's not about what the fuck *I'm* doing. It's what Randy's *not* doing. He needs to step up and do something. I've done it alone for so, so long. Granted, he doesn't even know yet, and it was my body and my choice to even have Travis, but he's here, and deserves to know his father. And Randy can man up and do the right thing for his son._

__Occupants of the house slept in various states. George conked out, Stacy had help from a prescription, and Travis stared at the ceiling, sniffling, until sleep came.

* * *

><p><em><em>The next morning was just like most, where the whirlwind of activity saw Travis off to school, George getting scripts delivered and Stacy making phonecalls. The day was flying by. She was about to lay down for an hour, this last hour of relative peace before the school bus dropped Travis off home, but George came to her instead. He wanted sex. Sex with George was great. Well, it was very good. He was no Randy Orton, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, not at all. Sex with George could sometimes be a bit clinical. The mechanics were as they are with any heterosexual encounter, but George's skin had a coolness about it, an almost ethereal quality, and he had a very laid back demeanor.

Sex wasn't some type of Olympic event, a test of strength and stamina, with George. There was usually a maximum of two positions and while foreplay could be brief, the actual act wasn't dragged out to the point that her body hurt the next day. Condoms were used and George was quick about disposing of them. There wasn't much speaking while in the act, either, but again, that's not always a bad thing. Especially when Stacy had popped a Xanax. She lay back and let George take his pleasure.

Now, if this was Randy? No, there wouldn't be any detachment. There would be a strong need for a shower afterwards, not just to cleanse the sweat and other bodily fluids, but for the hot water from the showerhead to pound on the back of her neck and her muscles to recover. Sex with Randy was always intense physically, and on those occasions that he got inside her head mentally...he left her mind as well-fucked as her body on those instances, such as when Travis was conceived.

Randy had actually ended up getting pulled off the card at the house show that night due to the clawmarks Stacy had left on his back. He couldn't go without a shirt; she'd drawn blood. She had a few marks of her own to show from that encounter, mild bruising in the shape of his fingertips around her wrists and the tops of her thighs. It hadn't been abuse by either party, if that's what the reader is thinking; it was simply intensity. No shower would be long enough to wash away the memories of that night, because that was the second to last time they were together. They must have known it; the sex was one of the last things to fall apart in their relationship. But for every cruel word he'd uttered, there were five words of love.

She knew he'd loved her once.  
>She knew that she'd never let go of the bitterness, though.<br>Her tranquilized eyes opened, and she gasped. George was dismounting from her and had an odd look on his face. What had she done?

"You never did that before," George mused as he went to dispose of the condom. Stacy sat up shakily. "Done what?" she asked, a bit nervously. George chuckled as he stuck his head out of the master bathroom, on his way to the waiting shower. "Screamed like that."

"Oh," she said and blushed furiously. She hadn't realized she'd screamed. George looked both amused and a little put off by it. The chuckle had seemed forced, in a way. Stacy thought quickly and said, "You just..well, you made me feel -that- good. Sorry, honey," she said as a peace offering. It pacified the A-Lister's ego and he winked at her before disappearing behind the frosted glass wall.

Only when that frosted glass wall had an extra layer of steam on it from George's shower did Stacy silently admit to herself that the scream of pleasure when she climaxed was brought on by thinking of Randy._ _You fucking bastard.__

She had barely fallen asleep when the rumble of the school bus could be heard out toward the street, signaling Travis's arrival. Stacy sighed, grabbed her robe and tied it around her waist, and with bleary eyes, started dialing Randy's number again._Pick up the damn phone. Just pick it up._ "Hello, you've reached Randy Orton. I am currently unavail-" Stacy hung up after going to voicemail yet again, and watched as Travis walked up the expanse of driveway. She opened the front door and forced a smile. "How was your day, Trav?" she asked, and closed the door behind them, sealing off the real world and the changing weather, just the same as she'd done exactly twenty-four hours ago, and twenty-four hours before that, and could hear George's voice, in a strained yet halfhearted friendly attempt from upstairs, "Was that the bus I heard? Oh. Hi, Travis. I'll be down shortly, I'm taking a call." George was actually about to call *his* lawyer.

It's impossible, George was starting to think, to reach a D-lister who runs around in his underwear with other men for a living? It's easier to reach George Clooney, movie star, than a professional wrestler? Something was wrong here. This guy would be taking Stacy's calls by the end of today, if George's shark in a suit could work his usual magic. "Hello, I'd like to speak to Harold please, this is George Clooney," George said to his attorney's secretary, charming her. Within thirty seconds, the call was put through.


	3. Chapter 3

**This story has crafted by one and being assisted by another. We've done some great things together. Why stop now? Far from a one-shot, this will chronicle a story that began nine years ago and continues. The usual disclaimers apply: This is fiction, we own none of the celebrity characters, trademarks, etc.**

**Chapters will not necessarily be in any "order", but will be told from different points of view along the way. **Reviews are welcome, as always.****

* * *

><p>Harold, George Clooney's attorney and good friend, had sat up several nights with the casefile that the firm had put together at George's request for his girlfriend, Stacy Keibler, and had gone to his partner in his law firm, and also a good acquaintance of Clooney's, Steven, practically begging him to handle this. Stacy was causing Harold's stomach ulcer to flare and Steven was the practice's top guy when it came to matrimonial and custodial issues. Steven consented, but had better be getting one hell of a gift this holiday season. The new titanium golf clubs he'd had his eye on, that cost almost four figures per club would be a nice start. Dealing with Stacy was harrowing.<p>

* * *

><p>"Stacy, you know that if there was no marriage, then you two can agree on this," Steven said as he reviewed the file, with her seated before him in his office.<p>

"...What?" Stacy asked. She hated to sound so ignorant of a situation she wass so heavily involved in, but this is something she was thinking about. She could hardly think of anything outside of what she wanted at this point. Her hunger, it had grown, and it was rival basic care for Travis as a child. She had become robotic. Simple hugs and kisses were given quickly and not even smiles came with them anymore. He wa observant, and might even notice, but she couldn't even call herself caring anymore.

This lawyer she was speaking with was one of George's friends. While it wasn't necesarily cheap, for George, not too many things were expensive and this was considered a favor. And having Stacy alone? With no one else to hear their...happenings? He'd gladly pay for that. They'd had been discussing tactics. A few that might not have been the fairest game to a pro wrestler, someone who is often low on time and attention to give too much of anything besides what he absolutely _has_ to.

_This is his son, he's going to have to give him time. _Her thought had escaped the mind-set feeling selfish, and were turning to negativity against Randy himself. He had helped in this. Hell, he helped _make_ this. That feeling she had before, of feeling guilty for hiding their son, couldn't be there anymore. Just...no. The fact that she did it probably saved them plenty of unnecesary attention, and their breakup might have been vicious, had she not chosen the path of keeping quiet about it. Ironically enough, this was going to be vicious. It's like she couldn't escape the fate.

"If there was no marriage, and no officially ordered custody by a family court judge, you and Randy can simply agree to this. The thing is, one of you could change your mind...it could possibly, potentially, become extremely messy."

"I wouldn't, I could let Ra-..."

He cut her off, "Stacy. Listen. It's not that easy. He has to agree. Now, if you don't _want_ the child anymore, you're probably better off letting him live with your parents for a while. I don't know if it's his behavior or something, but between you and me, you might regret this. Even while you're with George. And this...Randy guy, could take you to court, get full custody, and just like that, he would be gone. And there would be nothing you could truly do about it."

For a moment, in her face, there was a shining light, that pierced through the dark thoughts in her head that had been swirling for what felt like years now. He'd be gone, just like that. She could call. She could webcam. And most important to her, she could have her life back. That shine had forced up a small gasp, and a little bit of a smile.

"Steven, are you sure?"

Steven, the lawyer, had a face of disbelief on his face. A father himself, who'd obviously had a more conventional route to fatherhood, starting with being informed that his wife was expecting, wouldn't ever just give his kids away. Even under these circumstances. Even if they'd had issues that hindered their quality of life, even if they were simply just rotten kids. Kids aren't disposable. They're your -children-. This was...not normal at all for the mother. Normally, if there is a parent who feels this way, it's typically a father who wanted to escape such issues. Wanting to be a musician, or make it big somehow, and feeling like the kids would hold them back. Walking out on them and leaving them with their mother at least ensured in the father's mind that someone would be there for the children.

But this? This was all fucked up. Only way he could put it in his head. His fixed his demeanor before speaking, "Yes, Miss Keibler, I'm sure." Obviously, or why would he be here? Now insulted to an extent (He was no rookie. He'd passed the bar and has had a thriving practice for decades) as well as simply disgusted by her _smiling_ over this "good" news. But a favor was a favor, and he was paid nicely for this. The sooner her got her out of his office, the sooner he could forget all about this, and go home and hug his own kids tightly. "A parental agreement. You two can decide on the visitation, money, all of that will be through you two. This is probably the route you need to go."

"It can't be official?" She asked, slumping some.

Again, he shivered, and did his best to hold his composure, "If it's official, it has to go through computers. Which means the internet can get a hold of it easily. Even worse, they can find out _why_ it happened, and you could get all the...attention you're seeking, back overnight...but in negative ways."

Stacy's mouth curved into a frown. "But they don't know the entire story, and if it's never official, it can be altered and become bad for all involved, correct?" She was becoming slightly frustrated. That shining light was dimming again.

"You seem to forget that your son's father is involved with a multi-million dollar corporation. This..paternity and custodial matter...could make him look like a hero for standing up and taking his child, while you seemingly say nothing. Even worse, you didn't say anything for years. This could be nothing more than a storyline for them. I've done my homework on this company and they have no problem exploiting problems of their superstars. Kids can be good publicity, and Vince McMahon is a businessman before anything else. Travis himself could simply end up in a movie with them, and you'd just be...with George. Now, that's in the public line of sight. Privately, words, and often money, is given and taken. They might wonder who the mother is, but it's saying that Randy is divorced..."

The attorney took his glasses off and rubbed his brow a moment before he continued, "As a bachelor, being a single father would just be helping his image. He wouldn't even have to speak of you, and the boy could be...well...public." He paused again, realizing he'd been speaking aloud as he'd been thinking and needed a moment to ponder what it was that he'd just said. Now that he thought about it...This -would- be better for this child. Mind you, he didn't know the travel and overall lifestyle of the WWE, but Stacy was becoming unglued with her own life. She'd end up back here, as a part of something else requiring lawyers, be it breach of contract or some other crimp in the lifestyle of a performer. He could predict that much. She had the mindset, the financial backing and enough missing bolts in her head to do so.

"But how do I get him of all people to agree, Steven? He has money. He has the life he wants. Nothing will probably phase him but the fact that he has a son." She said, a hand at her forehead now.

"Well, there is a way. Mind you, it's extremely drastic. And parents with young children never really even -do- this. You sign over all rights of custody, terminating your parental rights. But mind you, I caution you strongly, Travis becomes Randy's completely. Any aspect of you in his life will be decided by Randy, until Travis is legally an adult. And even then, he may figure out the truth. And that may be stress that you as a person would not be able to take. It's a complete toss up, but you'd get what you want." He reached to the side of the desk, and retrieved his briefcase, knowing the document was in there, not in the case file, as Steven had taken it home last night to pore over. He began digging through his briefcase, telling her, "I have a copy of it, and if you truly decide on this, then sign it and get it back to me. Just know, Randy has to know before anything is set in motion. If he is aware that the child exists, then the child will have to go to the father first."

"And that's it?" She said, that mental shine becoming strong again.

"No. That's it with you. If Randy decides not to take the boy, then he would have to go with family who was willing to keep him. If not then, it would go bad again, but you wouldn't be involved. You'd have plenty of convincing to do, to a court of law, as to why you should have your son back." He could tell she wasn't thinking of the long run. She was thinking right now. But he was told by George specifically to "Make sure the boy gets to the father." along with the check he was given, and no way was he going to sacrifice this money. This child probably deserved better care from another family, to be honest. The father's family might just be those to do it. "Now I want to really think long and hard over this. Not just Travis, but George. Yourself. Who this is affecting. Everyone. You may not be able to live with this. People may not forgive you. Randy may not be the parent that Travis needs him to be, or that you think he can be. This could become a war, or things might even be...dare I say..civil, but I can't make you any promises. But if you still deem this okay in your own mind, then get those back to me as soon as possible."

They said their goodbyes, and Steven was already regretting doing this for George. He wasn't given details, just the money, and he should have known then that this was something he didn't want to stick his nose in when Harold pleaded with him to take this case. Of course, as an middle aged man, this wouldn't bother him for too long, he'd simply 'forget' about it. His phone also magically "forgot" George's private number today, with a vow to never accept another favor. But, he wouldn't forget Stacy, because he knew those papers were going make their way back to his desk signed. When? He didn't know.

He would have called himself a cynical asshole to expect that paper sitting on his desk when he'd gotten to the office the next morning, but there it was, still sitting in its wraps marked "Overnight Mail." Stacy was working quickly. Steven wished for a bottle of scotch in his desk. He shook his head and called for a meeting with Harold, to get him up to date on the case as he tore the envelope open to read the contents.


	4. Chapter 4

**This story has crafted by one and being assisted by another. We've done some great things together. Why stop now? Far from a one-shot, this will chronicle a story that began nine years ago and continues. The usual disclaimers apply: This is fiction, we own none of the celebrity characters, trademarks, etc.**

**Chapters will not necessarily be in any "order", but will be told from different points of view along the way. **Reviews are welcome, as always.****

* * *

><p><span>Early 2006<span>

"Happy Birthday, dear Travis, happy birthday to you," the servers at the child-themed chain restaurant sang as they gathered around the three year old. Rounding up the other children from the play area to drag them back to the table for cake was even more difficult than an hour earlier when the mothers had done the same thing to drag the toddlers back for pizza. These were the women from the community playgroup, where the only requirement to join was that they had a child between 18 months and four years old. Many of these women, Stacy wouldn't even have spoken to under other circumstances. Some were fat, some were ugly, none were anything other than "Somebody's mom."

It was like they traded their identities in the minute the pregnancy test came back positive. No longer did they care about how they looked, and every additional calorie that went into their mouths was written off as "I'm eating for two", while Stacy had worked long and hard into the pregnancy to eat properly and keep as much muscle tone as possible. Even then, she had a fight to get her figure back the way it had been prior to Travis' birth. She couldn't relate to these women at all. Fortunately, their kids were decent, though. Stacy had hidden behind a huge pair of sunglasses when entering the restaurant with Travis, not that paparazzi were following her anymore. She'd get her picture featured here and there, but usually only from when attending events. A three year old's birthday party generally doesn't get coverage from Getty Images unless the child is Suri Cruise, or one of Brangelina's clan.

While his birth certificate reads legally as Travis Keith Orton, as well as pediatrician records and his passport, Travis Keibler is what Stacy has introduced him as socially. She's kept quiet about who his father is and when friends outside of wrestling tell her she's got a "future lady killer" on her hands, given the boy's startling good looks, it's not without a private eyeroll of disgust that that's what Randy was also known as. Not just a Legend Killer, but a Lady Killer. She should've seen this coming, to be honest. Randy dominated every aspect of her life for a while. Why wouldn't his genes dominate hers and make this child more Orton than Keibler?

"Can you watch him for a second?" Stacy asked Marie, one of the other mothers, as she dashed to the ladies room and proceeded to throw up. It wasn't from nerves or stress or a violent reaction to the pizza or cake; it was because she didn't want the calories to migrate south and end up having her ass and hips *look* like Marie's. She didn't want forearms that looked more like hams than limbs. She didn't want a body that resembled a couch instead of an object of desire. Therefore, methods had to be taken, and were taken as necessary. She took the toothbrush from her purse and cleaned up after she'd purged herself, and came out of the ladies room as if nothing happened. It was a small price to pay so as not to look like one of *them.* Mentally, she sometimes feared she'd become one of them, but as long as it didn't show, who'd need to know?

She had Marie and another of the mothers watch over Travis as she went to start loading the SUV with the gifts that had been brought by the partygoers. Why couldn't these bitches just put cash in the card, or tuck a gift card inside? Stacy knew why. Because while the tags on the clothing had known names like The Children's Place, it didn't take too much of a trained eye to know that they were from last season. Not that anybody else would notice but Stacy was brand-conscious enough to know the current trends. While a $20 price tag might be attached to the pair of pants in the gift box, Stacy knew that no more than $8.99 had been spent.

And honestly, is "The Children's Place" even a good enough name to clothe her son in? Well, it's not like he was going to be doing any photoshoots with her, so for play and preschool, fine. She thought more about those cheap bitches inside, though. Granted, they didn't have bank accounts like Stacy's, but could they at least try to be a little less obvious about their penny-pinching ways? It cost more than $8.99 per kid's head to even have this party. "At least cover your cost," Stacy muttered under her breath as she went in for the third time to grab more of Travis' gifts to load up. She'd spent about $750 on this party, not including the gifts she gave her son, and knew that they were nowhere even near breaking even. She really hated spending time in what she considered the "Walmart world of these women." The seeds of discontent were simply sowing themselves some more.

Stacy returned and found Marie cleaning up. "You don't have to do that," Stacy insisted. "That's what they pay the people who work here for." Marie glanced at her and slowed, but didn't stop. It was Stacy's attitudes that Marie and some of the group discussed behind her back, including when Stacy was out at her SUV. Maybe little Travis overheard a little of the gossip, but even the little boy would know it was true.

"...and he missed playgroup two weeks ago because she didn't want to reschedule her nail appointment. I don't know about you, but I don't take my Justin into a nail salon, breathing in all those chemicals. Why do you think the nail techs wear masks?"

"I know. But her appearance means a lot to her."

"Yes, but so should her child's health. That's formaldehyde they're breathing, and acetone. Maybe that's part of the reason he gets that horrible cough."

"Shh, here she comes."

The women started leaving at the party's end, almost in droves, when Stacy came back in. They'd gathered their children and were saying their thank-yous for the invitation and their goodbyes, and it was only Marie who lingered. Stacy was putting Travis' jacket on when Marie picked up her daughter's baby carrier and had bundled up her own son. Marie had two children under age four, which is something not for the faint of heart. "Stacy, great party. Got a second?"

Stacy glanced at Marie, a little distractedly, maybe disinterestedly, but not maliciously. "Sure. Damn it, Travis, will you stay still?" she sighed as she was squatting to zip the jacket but she couldn't align the zipper's teeth if he didn't stop moving around. Travis was a little sugared up from the cake still and wanted to play a little longer, or at least get home and open his gifts and play with the new toys. Anything but staying still. Who wants to stay still after all the excitement? Who could?

"Are you okay?" Marie asked, as she put her own coat on and took a moment to really try and assess the physically beautiful yet sometimes extremely verbally nasty blonde.

"Of course I am," Stacy said defensively. "Why do you ask?"

"You just seem stressed."

"You would be too, Marie," Stacy fired back, "if your Matt was like my Travis. Your Matt listens."

"I listen!" Travis said, pointedly, and then scowled. What had he done? He was trying to stay still and his coat was zippered up. He looked a little confused, and then angry. She told him to stay still and he had. He jerked his arms into a folding position, as much as the heavy coat would allow him to, and stared at the floor.

Marie now looked confused. "Stacy, I've got to be honest...he's always polite. Name one of the children at this party who said thank you for being invited without their mothers telling them to say it. Yet Travis thanked them all for coming, and..."

Stacy got to a standing position and jerked Travis' hand in hers. She wasn't going to stand here and listen to this shit. She knew her child better than anyone else. Marie was making Travis out to be some little gentleman rather than a career stealer, sleep robber and a symbol of what was going wrong in her life. Without another word, she dragged him out to the SUV that was loaded with his gifts, and lifted him to put him in the carseat.

Travis made his entire body stiff in response to the rough handling. Even through his thick jacket, he could feel her hands clenching and there would be marks on him if she grabbed him this way in summer, with less clothes. When Stacy tried to get him into the seat, he wouldn't bend his body to do so. A battle of wills broke out right there in the parking lot. She tried to fit him into the seat, his limbs went completely straight.

"Get in your seat!" she hissed.

"I will not," he fired back.

"I'm going to count to three," she said in a quiet tone that nobody wants to hear a parent use.

"I can count to ten," he said almost smugly. He wasn't going to show her fear. He hadn't done anything wrong! She was picking on him. This was his BIRTHDAY. They had a PARTY. And now this? "Mommy, why are you ruining my day? WHY."

Would it be surprising that Stacy had that child out of the SUV in the blink of an eye and outside of the car, by the arm, and with her free hand, popping his backside hard enough that he felt it through the layers of clothing? "RUIN YOUR DAY?" she practically screeched, causing others in the parking lot to slow to watch what was happening. For all anyone knew, maybe the child had run in the busy parking lot. But after the third none-too-gentle pop, a man had come almost running over and had grabbed her wrist to prevent a fourth. The surprise of being grabbed also prevented Stacy from screaming at Travis the rest of what was on the tip of her tongue, being "You ruined my LIFE!"

"Miss," the man said, "You need to stop. Look around you." Stacy's eyes had gone from startled to a glare around at her surroundings. She heard Travis sniffle but knew he wouldn't cry. He was too much like his father to give her the satisfaction of tears. "You need to calm down. Yes, little ones need a hand to their backside every now and again, but not here and not now." Stacy realized that one of the women that was staring hatefully in her direction had a cellphone poised in her hand, likely to call 911.

It was like she'd had an epiphany there and nodded slowly. The man crouched down and ruffled Travis' hair, which only caused Travis to stiffen up again and stare at the ground, shaking in anger and a little fear. The man whispered something reassuring and picked him up, putting him in the carseat under no protest. Some might consider the man Travis' guardian angel that day, when in fact he was just a divorced dad going to pick up his own kids from a party at the same location.

Stacy herself had driven home in tears. It was a low moment, and one that didn't repeat to that degree, not for a long while. Travis didn't typically fear her threats of punishment but it was obvious that he hadn't detected any advanced threat, because she hadn't given him the customary warnings of "If you do that again, I'm going to smack your hand". Stacy also ended up on an anti-depressant the very next day on the advice of her doctor. It was a quiet, sullen and confused child that she'd taken home, the fun he'd had at the birthday party hard to remember once he'd gotten punished and didn't know what for, really.

* * *

><p>This was one of the defining moments of when Stacy realized that she had to do more for herself. Was she a likable person? Probably not. At that moment, she could feel Travis' hate, and it was a few days before Travis started acting like himself again instead of a shadow. Stacy had gone out of her way to make it up to him, even taking time from her workouts to take him for ice cream after preschool, ice cream she watched him eat. Because she didn't want to leave him at the table alone while she slipped off to the restroom to stick her finger down her throat.<p> 


	5. Chapter 5a

**This story has crafted by one and being assisted by another. We've done some great things together. Why stop now? Far from a one-shot, this will chronicle a story that began nine years ago and continues. The usual disclaimers apply: This is fiction, we own none of the celebrity characters, trademarks, etc.**

**Chapters will not necessarily be in any "order", but will be told from different points of view along the way. **Reviews are welcome, as always.****

* * *

><p>Since the documents had been overnighted and returned to the attorney, and now all wheels were in motion, it was simply up to Stacy to merely transport Travis to Randy, ready or not. It was just a matter of time now. After that, well...Let's just say Stacy had planned heavily in her head already for her very near future. Stacy was setting her sights on no later than February 2012. Her target: They'd be not just any celebrity couple, but a legitimate -power- couple. No, not just any power couple: one of Hollywood's Top Ten Power Couples. Stacy's complexion was flushed with a bit of quiet, secret excitement for the future, but at the very present, there was a bit of tension.<p>

"Are you sure it's even his number, Stacy? He would have answered by now." George was convinced she wasn't even trying anymore and his tone showed it, along with the shaking of his head. He wouldn't be convinced until the results were in, that Travis was at his father's for, at very least, an extended stay.

"George, he's busy, okay? I can handle this. Just go back to bed. Please?" Stacy pleaded. Of course it was Randy's number. Random wrong numbers don't have voicemails that begin "You have reached Randy Orton," she thought sarcastically, but fought successfully to keep the edge from her voice, instead invoking a softer, controlled sigh for his benefit. George walked out of the room as she'd requested, leaving Stacy in the home office where she'd been taking care of a few things.

To hell with waiting for Randy to be notified by the attorney. She decided there was always the easier, more direct way. How to reach Randy, even when he doesn't wish to be reached? Why, of course, by going through the one person whose calls he takes no matter what he's doing, who Randy wouldn't have the balls to avoid.

She had called WWE Headquarters in Connecticut. She no longer had the number in her phone, but contacting them was simple after she'd gone through the corporate website. One mention of her name got her directly through to Vince' office, an office which contained a phone that hardly rung. To actually get a phonecall put through to the very top of the company like this, on that private line, was a rarity.

* * *

><p><strong>Vince's POV<strong>

"Glenda, this better be important, damn it!" He yelled to the open door as he eyed the phone. He was not one to be bothered by calls. All the callers that he needed to take already had the number to the phone in his office. He recognized most of the numbers on the Caller ID display on this phone, but not the incoming call right now. No, this number had never popped up before.

Vince's mood today was already rather harsh, and he'd rather not be stressed out with petty information, and he was sure this was not important at all. He picked up, promising himself he'd make Glenda's day hell later if this was a call he needn't have taken. "Hello." He said, trying not to gripe. He gave himself breathing room. He is human. Maybe he had made a mistake.

"Vince...Err, Mr. McMahon, sir?" Stacy said, obviously a little rattled by his business tone.

"Who is this?" He asked, almost barked. A businesswoman would have been representing her company quickly and effectively, not wasting his time by asking for already verified information.

"This is Stacy..Keibler?" She was nervous now. He didn't even remember her voice?

"Oh...Oh!" Vince said, nodding as he did immediately recognize her voice once she'd jogged his memory. "I already see. You'd like to come back. I figured Clooney and you wouldn't last too long." He added cockily. Yes, they kept up with the majority of their former talent. Surprise appearances were sometimes a good spike for ratings, and sometimes led to good business, or more TV partners.

"No, no, we're doing fine. This is about Randy and myself," she corrected quietly but firmly.

"No, no..." He leaned back in his chair, annoyed, glaring at the open door. Someone had plenty of explaining to do. "I'm not going to get involved in the personal lives of my employees. Especially you two. Goodbye, Stacy."

"Look, Vince, we have a son, okay? A living, breathing child." She let out. Much like the days before, Travis was at school. It was about noon, and she had time to get this over with. She didn't know it, but George wasn't too far away at all. He'd quietly walked back and was now outside the home office, standing and listening in on what she was saying. He was controlling some days, and he wasn't going to just let this slide. After all, if he did, the boy would end up still here next week. And the week after that. And that.

"Wha...Stacy. You are not joking about this, are you?" He became dangerously sharp. Vince shot up, and put the phone on speaker, and shut his office door as he began mentally cursing and physically pacing.

"I'm not. And I've already signed over the custodial rights, sir. Our son's going to go live with his father, but, I just can't get a hold of Randy."

Vince cut to the chase. He had no reason to think Stacy was lying, and so, began frank negotiations. "How much do you want, Stacy. To be quiet about this, mentioning no word of it. How much."

Stacy blinked. A payoff? That would solve none of her problems. "Sir...He's eight years old. This happened when I was _with_ the company. When I was _with_ Randy. This isn't like I'm leaving a baby in a basket on his doorstep anonymously. This is a grade-school child we're talking about."

"...And you're saying Randy knows _nothing_ at all?" Vince asked, perplexed now.

"It wasn't a good split sir, you know this. That's why I was moved to Smackdown, before I left, remember?" And even on Smackdown, she was only in bikini contests and managing. When she started claiming "I just don't want to wrestle anymore," it was for the baby. Those were the days before pregnancy tests were given by the trainers to all Divas before Pay Per Views, like how Kharma's unexpected pregnancy was found out. Pregnant women are not allowed in the ring, but that's not to say that before mandatory testing happened, some women didn't sneak in. No, in Stacy's time, the Divas found out on their own and 99% of them terminated their pregnancies. In Stacy's twisted logic, she was a good mother just for that much, not only testing on her own but staying out of the ring. She did what was right.

"Whoa, whoa...Stacy. Think about this. Randy doesn't have himself together most days. He works over three hundred days a year on the road. You want him to take care of a kid? His or not...I don't know Are you sure you're not looking to come back to the company? We could talk about that, you know," Vince offered. Maybe throwing her something in a WWE Studios project would quiet her down and not turn his Number Two Superstar into Mr. Mom.

"Vince, I'm only asking you to get a hold of him. I can't do this anymore. You have no idea what I've been through the last decade of my life. I don't want money, or a movie. I just need him to know." Stacy herself was becoming rather short with Vince now. She was with George Clooney of all people, who had plenty of money himself. Hell, she could sell a few pieces of jewelry and probably be set for a good few years back in LA.

"But you're not thinking about Randy, Stacy. If this was way back when, I could understand. This might have saved him some trouble later on in life. But this?"

"Are the shows still on Saturdays?" She asked tersely.

Vince even gasped a moment there, and it's hard to get a reaction like that out of him. "You don't even have the decency to bring the boy to his _home_? You should know better than anyone that the locker room is not the best place for any child! Listen to yourself!"

"I don't know what else to do here Vince!"

"Keep your son! Tell him he has a child! Let him _handle_ this _away_ from work! Do not do this, Stacy! _Don't_. I'm warning you." Vince's face had become completely red now. While he had to care about his workers, it didn't take a rocket scientist to see that Stacy was setting this man up for a complete and utter shock, and she did not care. Vince had humiliated his children on national television, but it was just that. Television. Never would he put them through something like this emotionally. Stephanie and Shane at age eight...There were still _babies_. Just starting life, getting small tastes of it. But this? This was not right for any involved. And worst of all, she was adamant.

"Look, Vince. If he doesn't want him, he can sign off his rights too. Maybe his parents will take Travis in. But I can do this, and I am doing this. The plane ticket has already been bought for the fourth, and this is going to happen. Bye, Vince."

And with that, she hung up.

Vince slammed the phone down, and rubbed his face with his hands. Randy wasn't known for good behavior. Vince was imagining Randy with a younger him, a mini-me backstage. He also couldn't picture Randy having to care for the child. He didn't know if Randy would come home intoxicated, or with some ring rat. This was seeming like a Children's Protective Services referral waiting to happen. Vince wanted to have faith in Randy, but he had made that mistake before. He was back on the right track it seemed, but trouble just seemed to follow him. The point is, Randy Orton was too big of a WWE Superstar and too important for the company for anything drastic to happen now.

Imagine the press? The news coverage. The bad publicity. They'd probably make this boy look like a victim. Vince could see it now. He'd have no friends, and look like them, and just make it so pathetic and miserable.

"Glenda, where is Smackdown tonight?" Vince asked, standing up and snatching his blazer off the back of his office chair.

"Charlotte, why?"

"Tell them to get the jet ready. I need to get down there. Now."

Now Vince did have enough respect not to tell anyone else. Hell, he shouldn't even know right now. This could have been handled years ago. Hell, they could have used this kid instead of Dominic. That whole Taker feud would been amazing with this kid element. But no. Stacy, that bitch, had to do this now, when ratings were down. Sales were down.

He vowed she'd never work in his damn company again as he exited the office, and was on his way to the private jet.


	6. Chapter 5b

**This story has crafted by one and being assisted by another. We've done some great things together. Why stop now? Far from a one-shot, this will chronicle a story that began nine years ago and continues. The usual disclaimers apply: This is fiction, we own none of the celebrity characters, trademarks, etc.**

**Chapters will not necessarily be in any "order", but will be told from different points of view along the way. **Reviews are welcome, as always.****

****Chapter 5 has been split into two parts: 5a and 5b. If you haven't read Chapter 5a yet, we suggest you select Chapter 5a from the navigational bar and read that portion before reading this, in order for the story to flow as it should.****

* * *

><p>The call with Vince now behind her, she had gone to George after ending that phonecall and reporting back to him what was said. She hadn't known, and George hadn't let on to her, that he'd eavesdropped the whole while and while her retelling of the story was accurate, he was seeing how easy it was for Stacy to boast, or polish through retelling, certain portions and spin them to make herself look better.<p>

Where a normal couple might worry if a partner could do things so easily, without a second thought-spinning words that the other party already heard, into sounding similar but not the same, and doing so believably-this wasn't a normal couple. This was Hollywood. And much about Hollywood is fake. If anything, George was appreciating Stacy's ability. It showed she did have acting talent, more so than the little supporting roles she'd land here and there on cable television.

George was glad that Stacy wasn't just sitting on her ass, though, and was doing what she could to better their relationship. "Let me take your mind off of things for a while," George said as he led her to the master bedroom for a little escape time. All seven minutes worth, that had him jumping in the shower afterwards, even though neither had broken a sweat. At least he felt better about things, and less threatened. Stacy was doing the right thing.

* * *

><p>Stacy put her clothes back on, and eyed the clock. Travis would be home soon, the rumble of the school bus that had become the signal for her stomach to clench into knots should be happening within the next fifteen minutes. She didn't know what exactly what was going to happen come Saturday, besides the fact that her son was leaving her.<p>

(Not that she was -sending her son away-, but that -her son was leaving her-.) Was it such a shame that she didn't feel bad? She needed this. This was what she wanted. It's not like it was for adoption, or worse, a backdated abortion. He was simply going to his Daddy. He needed his father. Boys need their fathers. If anything, Randy's influence on Travis and vice versa might be what both need. Travis might get better manners, and Randy might at least get better fashion sense.

Travis got home with a backpack full of homework, permission slips, and the contents of his lunchbox were barely touched, further evidence of his pickiness. The monotony of emptying the backpack wouldn't be hers to deal with much longer, she thought to herself, and it made it a little easier as she threw out the rejected and barely touched cheese sandwich, carrot sticks and popcorn. Travis went off to do his homework and Stacy took care of some things around the house. And as usual, George came down, had an awkward exchange with Travis.

"Uh, how was your day, Trav?"  
>"Um...fine," Travis said, glancing up.<br>"Learn anything new today?"  
>"Not really."<br>"Any problems?"  
>"No." Even at eight years old, Travis could get bored of forced, monosyllabic conversation, and turned his attention back to his math page.<br>"Good," George said and went in the back yard to practice with his new golf club.

It got darker out earlier this time of year, and was generally easier to get Travis to bed earlier. Dinner had been cooked, served, and cleaned up; she'd run his bath water and supervised him in there; bedtime was nearing. He had a coloring page he'd had to finish, a map of the continents, and was putting the completed paper in his backpack and turning his attention to TV as she walked into the living room downstairs, and called him over.

"Travis," She started sweetly, "Can you come sit next to mommy for a while? Please?"

She was glad he wasn't older. She could see the attitude starting to build in him. This sarcastic side that she didn't exactly care for too much, specifically. She didn't know who he got it from, and should he be older, he probably would have blown her off or something. Had that been the case, she would have handed his ass the plane ticket on Saturday, and been free without even having to go through this talk.

She sighed, and collected herself, and started reciting her pre-practiced, pre-thought-out speech to him. "I need you to listen, okay?" She started, wrapping an arm around him. "I love you. I really do, Travis. But Mommy and George are in love too, and we want what's best for you. I just want you to be happy."

" 'kay." Was all he said, and went back to the television screen. She made a slight look that met the back of his head, and almost snatched the remote out of his hand. "Listen, sweetie. In a few days, you're gonna have to go with your Daddy. Okay?"

She expected tears, or an argument. But no, nothing. His face was twisted slightly, and she could literally see him thinking.

"But you said not to think around about him, and that it was you and me."

"_I know what, I said, Travis,_" She smiled through gritted teeth, "But this is different. You're going to be with him, okay? Don't think I don't love you, and don't think I'm getting rid of you...But this is something that is definitely going to be a good thing." She said. Again, not too much of anything. He didn't go back to the TV, but it was like he was sensing something was wrong here.

"It's going to be fun Travis, I promise. You'll have a lot of friends, and he'll take good care of you. Okay?" She just wanted something. Some sort of reaction, but he wasn't budging at all.

"Well what about me though? And school? I already have friends." He said, finally. He was confused, she could tell. If anything, he was picking up on the magnitude of this. How heavily his entire life was going to change...again. When they'd moved in with George, Travis was ripped from his old school and old friends and had to start all over. Travis was choosing his words as carefully as possible with his mother, as he was still feeling the effects of parenting-gone-wrong on his legs, and the light bruises were still visible. It didn't take much to cause some sort of redness on his skin, but to bruise was saying something, especially with bare hands.

"Just trust me when I tell you everything is going to be okay, alright?" She said, smiling at him. Any normal mother wouldn't be able to bring themselves to this level, but Stacy had no limits at this point. Not only had she lied about Randy, she lied about generally this entire conversation. He'd probably be on the road with Randy, with some online school program, and basically having to tag along wherever he went. She was sure Randy would make time for him.

In all actuality, that was just herself convincing herself that Randy would be the parent she didn't want to be anymore. That he'd make the sacrifices, and do everything he needed to, and make this work. And if he didn't, well, she'd cross that bridge when she got there. If she got there.

After she had tucked Travis in for the night, she figured she'd be able to hold on to some decency for her next step. She was going to write a letter to Randy. Okay, even this sounded like a bad idea to her, but she had already bought the plane ticket, and let Vince know, who she knew was probably running batshit right about now. If anything, she was being nice.

_Randy,_

_You've had to have noticed a frequent unknown caller number that you haven't bothered to pick up your phone on. It was me. If you've checked your voicemails, and not deleted without opening, you already know that. I'm done with the calling. The conversation wouldn't have done us any good. When did it ever, right?_

Yes, she had some bitterness left in her.

_When we were together, you already know that everything was unprotected. I know you probably don't want to say that he's yours, but look at him Randy. Really look at him. I couldn't deny it, and neither can you._

_I already have his documents in his bag, all you have to do is get them put up in a safe place. I don't know what to tell you about him, other than he mirrors you from time to time, which honestly scares me sometimes. He does have a mouth on him, and he is prone to getting sick in the winter. California is good to him, I can only hope you are too._

_I'm sure I'll be hearing from you. But just do us all this one favor, and keep him. He is yours, and he needs you. More than I never did._

_Love,_

_Stacy & George_

And with that. Everything was set. Now, it was just a matter of hours before it actually happened.


End file.
